A Supernatural CSI
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: CSI New York meets up with the boys of Supernatural
1. Chapter 1

**I'm re-updating some of my stories. My page breaks went suddenly missing, so I made new ones.**

**As always I own nothing…**

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

What was the point of Shannon leaving the party; she was having a good time, right? Wrong. She was having a lousy time. Her date was a dud, her friends were all drunk, and her dress was ruined. Someone spilt beer on it, but she never figured out who.

She looked both ways making sure no cars were coming, and then crossed the street cautiously. She was actually surprised there were no cars; New York normally had a few stragglers even at three in the morning. Ignoring that fact-she really didn't care-she stepped onto the curb and continued on her way.

She was halfway down the sidewalk, nearly to her building, when she felt the hairs on her neck and arms stand up. Someone was watching her. She didn't look around, not giving the freak the satisfactory of knowing he got to her. She did speed up, her heels clicking loudly on the cement. She fumbled in her purse, getting her keys out early so she didn't have to look later.

She could see her building, the lights from Mr. 201 a godsend to her. She was actually glad, for once, that the old man suffered insomnia. She sped up, nearly running, when a dark shape landed in front of her. She skidded to a halt, holding in a scream.

"I smell fear," a male's voice muttered and the unmistakable sound of sniffing filled the air. The figure walked toward Shannon, stepping under a flickering streetlight. He was paler than normal, almost like a living ghost. His eyes were purple; not exactly an uncommon color if he was wearing colored contacts. His hair was black, black and thick. He also had fangs…

_Fangs, that can't be right_, Shannon thought as the light flickered and died. She tried to back away, her left foot in the air, when the guy attacked. Shannon never had time to scream, her throat was ripped out in a flash of fangs.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Mac Taylor strode toward the crime scene, a tense look in his eyes. His least favorite part of his job was looking at the bodies, but someone had to do it. He heard the clicking of a camera, knowing Danny or Lindsay were already there. He spotted Flack standing by a group of people, attempting to get answers. When Flack spotted him he broke away from the specters and walked toward him.

"What have we got?" Mac asked looking down at the sheet covered body.

"Twenty-year-old Shannon Felicity; she was found this morning by her neighbor. The woman had to be taken to the hospital…"

"Why?" Mac gave Flack a curious glance. He looked slightly uncomfortable, his eyes averted from the body.

"Well…" Flack crouched down, pulling the sheet off of Shannon. It took all of Mac's will power not to cringe. He had seen some horrible crime scenes in his time, but none were as bad as this. Shannon's body had been torn to shreds, her insides surrounding her like flesh confetti. Mac was actually surprised they could tell who she was at all.

"Her ID was still on her," Flack said answering his unasked question. He handed over the wallet and her purse, covering the body back up. Mac looked down at the brunette woman. Her eyes were blue, the same color as the sky. She was stunning, with her pale flawless skin and thick eyelashes.

"Who would want her dead?" Flack asked looking at her picture over Mac's shoulder.

"The question isn't who would want her dead; the question is who would want her in pieces," Mac replied closing the wallet.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Dean Winchester had to admit, the apple pie was better than the waitress had said. He wanted to bathe in the pie, that's how good it was. He was about to order another piece, maybe two, when Sam returned from the bathroom, his phone to his ear.

"Are you sure, Bobby?" he asked sitting at the table. Dean licked his fork, getting the last of the apple filling off. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get his second piece of pie. "Okay…" Sam took out a piece of wrinkled paper and a pen, scribbling something down.

"We'll get there and get back to you." Sam hung up, storing his phone in his pocket.

"What is so important?" Dean muttered pushing his plate away from him. He knew any phone call from Bobby ended in some kind of hunt.

"Bobby says there are signs of vampire activity in New York. Four people have been killed; their bodies nearly ripped apart…"

"Kinda sounds like a rouge vampire or a newly created one," Dean said mentally planning for the hunt.

"That's what Bobby said. He wants us to check it out, see what we can figure out. So, pay for you pie, we've got to go." Sam stood up, putting his jacket on.

Once his bill was paid, Dean was back in his car. His precious Impala was one of the three things on the list of things he loved. Sammy and pie the other two. He loved the purr of the engine; it was a sound that was only for him no one else.

"Are you going to go?" Sam questioned his voice breaking into Dean's thoughts. He glared at his brother putting the car in reverse. He backed out of his parking space. He shifted the Impala into drive and peeled out of the lot.

"Your ass is going to get pulled over one day," Sam muttered as he looked over a map. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing for a fact that after driving so many miles, for so long, he knew when to slow down and when not to. He was famous for his cocky attitude and Sammy was a prude.

"Worrying kills you faster, Sammy. Just relax and enjoy the ride." With those words ringing in the air, Dean sped up flipping on his radio. ACDC's _Highway to Hell _was on. _Fitting_, Dean thought with a grin.

"Mullet rock, here we go again," Sam muttered under his breath. Dean knew the music drove his brother crazy which was more of an excuse to play it. He started singing, watching his brother roll his eyes. "Come on, Sammy, you know you want to sing."

"No, I want you to watch your speed. Unlike this song, which is unrealistic as it is, there is a speed limit. You happen to be twenty miles over it."

"You are such a wuss, Sam," Dean muttered but slowed down slightly. "Happy?"

"No," his brother replied looking back at his map. With a small smile, Dean continued down the road.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still own nothing…**

**SN/CSI: NY**

Danny Messer was sitting at his desk, checking his email, when he sensed someone come up behind him. He recognized her scent before she even said anything.

"Montana, I'm surprised. I never knew you made office calls…" his voice trailed off when Lindsay dropped a couple of pictures on his desk. They were of a girl, or at least he thought it was a girl. She was ripped to shreds, just like the other victims.

"Another murder? Who is this guy?" Danny flicked through the pictures, each one more gruesome than the last. He flipped the pictures over when done, turning his chair around to look at Lindsay. She kept her face an emotionless mask, but he knew her well enough to know that she was very upset by the case.

"We don't know," she replied, "so Mac is pulling all of us off our original cases. This one is becoming our first priority. I hope we catch this psycho."

"Four murders, I definitely hope we catch him," Danny replied pushing himself to his feet. He crossed the room, looking out the huge window. His eyes swept across New York and he sighed, "Some creepy guy is out there somewhere and we are no closer to finding him.

"Hawks told me he ran the finger prints from the last crime scene," Danny continued still looking through the glass. "He came up with the finger prints of a dead guy. Like the guy was there, like a zombie."

"That's crazy, Danny, zombies aren't real. It's not like we're in a bad horror movie, this is real life," Lindsay tried to joke. She didn't succeed like she wanted to; her voice was a tad shakier than anticipated.

"Hey, Linds, I'm just joking," Danny responded turning around. He saw her try to compose her worried look, but she was too slow for him. He strode toward her, taking her in his arms. "We'll catch this guy soon and then the streets will be moderately safe once more."

"You're a horrible liar, Danny, but thanks." They broke apart when the door opened. Sheldon Hawks was standing just before the threshold, watching both of them somberly.

"What's up, Doc?" Danny asked cautiously

"There are a couple of FBI agents downstairs. They wanted to view the bodies. I was wondering if you two have seen Mac, I think he should be down there. These guys look more like wannabes than actual agents…"

"That's seriously creepy, if they are imposters." Lindsay sounded aghast. Danny could see where her head led her. Two guys getting off on seeing dead bodies; it took all his self-control not to shudder.

"Mac's in his office. We'll go get him; I wanna see these guys myself." Danny followed Hawks out of the door. They stopped at Mac's door, beckoning him to join them. He gave them a questioning look, but still got up and walked out the glass door.

"What's going on?" he asked eyeing all three cautiously.

"There are two FBI agents down in the morgue. They want to view the bodies and Sid asked me to come get you. They don't look like any agents I've seen," Hawks replied.

"Take me to them," Mac responded and Sheldon led the way to the morgue.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Dean was looking at his reflection in one of the morgue slate's metal doors. He'd never admit it to Sam, but sometimes he liked wearing the suits. He felt like James Bond half the time, like a secret agent. He always wanted to say, "Winchester, Dean Winchester."

"What the hell are you doing," Sam snapped crossing the room in seconds. He looked at his brother in the metal door.

"I look like a freaking ambulance chaser in this damn suit," Dean snapped, his voice slipping into the normal complaint mode, as the doors opened. Both Winchester's spun around to see a small group of people looking at them. One was a female, the other three male.

_What are you looking at 'four-eyes'_, Dean thought as his eyes flicked passed Danny. He nodded to Sheldon, whom he had seen moments before. The woman was the one he strayed on the most. _Wonder what her name is,_ he thought trying to seem uninterested. She blushed which meant he didn't succeed. Finally, he looked at the last guy; Mac was eyeing them with some recognition. _I don't know you. How the hell do you know us?_ He thought to him, trying not to glare at the elder guy.

"You're the FBI agents?" Mac asked before anyone else could say anything.

"I'm agent John Osborne and this is my partner, Mark Felder," Dean replied slipping into the façade of his aliases. This time he used Ozzy's real name and a guitarist from The Eagles last name as his and Sammy's new names.

"Okay, Agents Osborne and Felder," Mac started not even asking for verification. Dean found that slightly odd, most of the time the CSI men really hounded them for proof of who they were, or not were. "If you'll just follow me to my office, we can discuss this case. Then I'll show you the bodies."

"Mac, do you think that's…"

"Danny, I know what I'm doing. Come on, boys." Mac walked out of the room, ignoring the incredulous looks his team gave them. Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look and quickly followed him. They had to jog to keep up with the CSI's quick pace.

"I'm Mac Taylor, by the way," Mac said calmly, opening his door and allowing the guys to cross the threshold. They barely had time to look out the huge window, down at the New York street when he closed the door and said, "So, Sam and Dean Winchester. Finally you show up."

"How the hell…" Dean started turning to look at Mac's amused look.

"Oh, please, do you not think your dad wouldn't have talked about you two?" both boys exchanged quick, shocked glances. "I met your dad during basic training. He was a new comer, I was a drill sergeant. He was also a pain in the ass."

"Wait; let me get this straight, you knew our dad?" Sam asked. "You actually knew our dad?"

"Yeah, I knew John Winchester."

"Okay, you knew him, but he went to war before we were born," Dean started. "So, how the hell do you know us?"

"Ten years ago a werewolf was attacking people on the streets, John showed up and got rid of it. I helped. That's how I know about you guys." Dean couldn't help but think _these simultaneous glances are getting old_, as he and Sam exchanged another quick stare. Then they looked back at Mac's amused face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Nope, neither show is in my possession. Damn.**

**And yes, still re-updating.**

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Mac had told the Winchesters they could only keep up their FBI façade to strangers, he also told them to inform his team that they were "experts" on this type of case; the supernatural stuff was not necessary. In addition, he made them tell his team their names, against Dean's will, and he introduced the others. He started with Sheldon.

"This is Sheldon Hawks," he introduced them to a dark skinned, black haired, brown eyed man. Sheldon shook hands with Sam and Dean.

"Nice to meet you," Sheldon said politely. Sam nodded and Dean grunted. Mac moved onto the brunette that caught Dean's eye. "This is Lindsay Monroe," Mac said.

"It's always a pleasure to meet a pretty lady such as yourself," Dean said smoothly shaking Lindsay's hand. She blushed, Sam rolled his eyes, and Danny cleared his throat.

"I'm Sam," Sam said lightly pushing Dean to the side. He really didn't want to see his brother and the bespectacled male in a fight. He quickly shook Lindsay's hand and continued down the line.

"This is Danny Messer," Mac said cautiously. Dean and Danny had a mini face-off as they shook each others hands. Sam could tell each one was trying to break the other's hand. It was a tense moment before Danny let go. Sam could see his brother silently congratulating himself on the win. _Competitive bastard_, he thought rolling his eyes again.

"Stella and Flack aren't here, but you'll meet them later," Mac continued as if nothing happened. "These two are the experts. The FBI is not going to be able to help us with this case. They will…"

"Wait, so they aren't FBI agents," Danny said slowly and glanced at Hawks' triumphant look. The doc had called it clear out of the sky.

"We're freaking better," Dean muttered under his breath. Sam knew his brother prided himself on thinking he was above the law. Lord knows he's been in so many situations with cops that Sam was surprised his brother hadn't been carted off to prison for the rest of his life.

"No, but they will be a lot more help. What's going on here is worse than we thought," Mac cut in before Danny could respond to Dean's comment.

"What's going on?" Lindsay asked curiously eyeing her superior worriedly.

"That's not important. What's important is if these boys can take care of it then we don't have to worry about it," Mac replied evasively and turned to the Winchesters, "I guess I'd better show you two the bodies."

"That would be great," Sam said quickly, interrupting Dean's response. Sam loved his brother, would do anything for him, but he would also be the first to admit that ninety percent of what his brother said was rude. Their dad had never taught them manners, Sam picking his up from people he'd come across over the years, and Dean took all of their dad's lessons to heart. It could be embarrassing when an almost twenty-eight year old man made rude noises at the table while eating, in a public diner no doubt, but Mac seemed like an okay guy and Sam didn't want to be thrown in jail or anything.

Dean glared at his brother's interruption but bit his tongue. Sam could tell his brother wasn't happy with the situation. He hadn't planned to be made so quickly, or have someone know them that they didn't know, but they were. Dean just had to get over it. _Acts like he's six half the time anyway_, Sam thought as they followed Mac out of his office.

"So, that Lindsay girl…? Dean started the moment they were in the elevator.

"…is dating Danny, so she's off limits," Mac replied without looking at Dean. Sam could see the older guy grin in his peripheral vision and couldn't help smiling, too. Dean merely crossed his arms and, no better word for it, sulked in the corner.

When they reached the morgue Sid greeted them with a small wave. A gray haired man with glasses, Sid was the lead ME of the crime lab.

"Dean, Sam this is Sid," Mac introduced quickly and crossed the room.

"I'd shake your hands, but mine are quite busy," Sid said slowly as he held up a severed arm. Sam cringed while Dean merely glanced at it. Sam knew, even behind his brother's uninterested façade that Dean wanted to know what happened. _Curiosity killed the cat and would probably one day kill Dean Winchester_, Sam thought wearily.

"Smashed in between a big rig," Sid explained answering the unasked question obviously on Sam's face; John had taught Dean to hide his emotions too well. "The body's over there if you want to see it."

"No thanks," the Winchesters said together. They hurried past Sid, joining up with Mac by the morgue slates. He pulled one out, at the very top, and pulled the sheet off the body. Sam didn't wince that time, but it took a lot of will power.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered. The body was in pieces, something they had seen before but still weren't used to. There was some hair, brown, where the head should be. Organs-_aren't those things supposed to be on the inside_, Sam thought-were in an array on the table. Sam could see an arm, a piece of a leg, and what looked like half a skull. He couldn't believe something, even a vampire, could do that; no matter how many times he'd seen it.

"So, what the hell is doing this?" Mac whispered pushing the slate back into the wall. He closed the door and turned to look at the brothers. They exchanged yet another glance, actually lost for an answer. They actually thought the bodies would be intact, maybe a few pieces missing, but that body was just a disaster. Whoever that girl, or maybe a guy, was their family would probably not be able to ID them.

"It could be many things. We thought it was a vampire," Sam replied quietly. "But now…"

"Now what?" Mac asked his eyes flicking back and forth between the guys.

"Now, we don't know," Dean finished for his brother, a grim expression on his face.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Shelly Miles locked up her shop tightly, the rush hour having just left and the sun just setting. She wasn't prone to closing her book store early, but her son had a doctor's appointment and she had to pick him up from her mother's house.

She stretched he arms above her head, purse whacking her in the skull, and headed down the block. She was always forced to park a good two blocks from her store, apartment live-ins and other business owners taking the spots she wanted. She was a good yard from her shop when she felt, more than heard, someone following her. She sped up slightly, already thinking of the mugger that could be following her.

Her car was in sight, the green Neon basked in a streetlight, when she was tackled from behind. She was spun around, her back digging into her purse, a pale man standing above her.

"Are you going to scream for me?" he asked sniffing her neck. She let loose a shrilly wail that was cut off sharply by fangs digging into her throat; it was the last thing she felt.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Dean was having a good dream, one that involved throwing Danny out a twenty story window and Lindsay claiming it was the best thing he could have done. They were inches from kissing when a banging yanked him out of his dream.

"Who the fuck is that," he muttered rolling out of bed. Sam, clearly out cold, merely mumbled, "Dean, someonesatthedoor," before rolling over. Dean snorted, wishing he had his phone to get a picture. Shaking his head, he pulled the door open and felt his good mood fester. Danny was standing in the doorway, wearing a mildly suspicious, mildly irritated look.

"Mac wanted me to come get you two, there's been another murder," Danny replied emotionlessly.

"Give us ten minutes," Dean replied and shut the door in Danny's face. _Take that four-eyes_, he thought with a smirk. He crossed the room to his brother's bed, hitting his foot, "Sammy, get up, we've gotta go."

"Idon'twannago," Sam got out and rolled over again.

"Fine." Dean walked to the side of the bed, grabbed the mattress, and flipped it over. Sam tumbled onto the floor, getting tangled in his blankets. Dean laughed as he pulled a pair of jeans off the back of a chair and yanked them on.

"Dude, you're a frigging jerk," Sam exclaimed untangling himself. He got to his feet, glaring daggers at his brother. Dean merely shrugged as he threw on a flannel shirt. He was pulling on his boots when his brother finally started getting dressed.

"You're slow, Sammy," Dean commented lacing up his right boot. He was on his feet in seconds, crossing the room to put the mattress back on Sam's bed.

"I was just flipped off my bed; I could have broken bones…"

"If you don't hurry your ass up you will have broken bones," Dean snapped and headed toward the door. His keys jingled in his pocket, along with three dollars in change. He had to remember to stop at a Laundromat sometime soon. He opened the door to see Danny leaning against the wall, watching the traffic from the balcony.

"People are gonna think you're a crazy stalker if you keep standing there," Dean commented leaning against the balcony railing. Danny glared at him but didn't say a word. The two men stood in silence for a good two minutes before Sam finally exited the room. He closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked.

"Electric keys, Sammy. You don't need to lock it."

"I'm not talking to you," Sam responded and headed down the short hall, toward a set of stairs. Danny smirked at the disgruntled look on Dean's face and quickly followed Sam. Dean sneered at the retreating backs of the CSI and Sam and started after them.

They arrived at the Impala in seconds, Danny letting out a low whistle. Dean could tell, even if Danny didn't particularly like him, that the CSI liked his car.

"'67, Impala; man, my neighbor had a red one back in the day. Where did you get one of these?" Danny's eyes ran over the midnight black car, impressed by the sheer sight of it.

"My dad," Dean replied smugly. "Rebuilt it myself a few months ago; it's in mint condition, runs like a god, and is my pride and joy."

"I drive a bike," Danny said pointing at his motorcycle in the last parking spot.

"Do you want to ride to the crime scene with us," Sam asked before Dean could do or say anything. He was planning to say "Enjoy the cold" and drive off. _Sam you suck_, he thought glaring at his brother's innocent looking face; Dean could see the smile hidden in his eyes. _Hold that damn smirk in, you asshole._

"I don't want to intrude…"

"No, I insist. _Dean_ would really appreciate the company." _You're pushing it Sammy,_ Dean thought bitterly. He tried his best to smile, his jaw feeling like it was glued together, and said, "Sure, why not."

"Okay, I'll be right back." Danny ran toward his bike-_Probably checking his make-up,_ Dean thought letting out an annoyed breath-and then returned in seconds.

"Can we go?" Dean asked trying and failing to hide his frustration.

"I don't see why you need my permission to drive your car," Danny retorted smugly, getting in the back of the car.

"_I don't see why you need my permission to drive your car_," Dean mimicked under his breath. He was really starting to hate Danny Messer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Still not mine.**

**_SN/CSI: NY_  
**

Danny was actually tempted to lead the Winchester's on a wild goose chase, just to see how pissed off Dean would get, but thought better of it when he realized Mac could very well put him on desk duty for the remainder of his time at the crime lab. So, with a heavy heart, he gave the useless "expert" the correct directions.

He hated to admit it, but he was impressed by the Impala. Even his neighbor, who had loved the car with every moral fiber of his being, hadn't taken as good of care of it as Dean took care of his car. Yes, there was garbage on the floor, fast food wrappers, empty coffee cups, and other unidentifiable items. Danny had investigated many cars in his time, a lot of cars in fact, and he'd never been afraid to dig into the interior. But, now, after meeting Dean Winchester he was actually afraid to even touch anything. Who knows what was lurking amongst the pile. Suppressing a shudder, trying to push back the thought of what his sneakers could be sitting in, he looked out the window.

The crime scene was close, he could see the flashing lights, but a loud scream caused Dean to pull up to a curb.

"What the hell was that?" Sam asked looking out the window. Dean shrugged, opening the glove box. He pulled out a .9mm, checked to make sure it was loaded, and hurriedly got out of the car.

"Wait, wait, wait," Danny said pushing open his door. He hurried to keep up with Dean, who was already heading down a dark alleyway. Sam was right behind both guys; Danny could hear him loading a gun, too.

"This could be some random mugging," Danny hissed and pulled out his own gun. "Don't you think we should call for back up?"

"Shut the fuck up," Dean hissed back not looking at the bespectacled guy. He continued down the alleyway, another scream ripping through the night. The person, Danny couldn't determine man or woman, sounded really scared. They finally reached the end, to see two people in a struggle. A woman was on the ground, gripping her purse like a life preserver, trying to keep a guy from taking it.

"Hey," Dean called causing both to look over at him. Danny almost rolled his eyes but stopped when he noticed how pale both people looked. They also had fangs, something normal people didn't have.

"Un-freaking-believable," Dean muttered slowly backing away. Obviously he wasn't expecting this. Danny was all for following him, not wanting to go up against those things, when both attacked.

Danny tried to fend the guy off, tried to use all his training to stop him, but it was like trying to hit a meth addict. Every swing that struck the fanged man didn't faze him at all. He was slammed onto his back, all the air knocked out of him. He was vaguely aware of the sounds of a struggle from somewhere close to him. He tried to kick the guy off, but his legs were pinned by the dude's knees. Before he could do anything else, fight or anything, the guy leaned over him and sank his teeth into Danny's neck.

_Who the hell bites people_, Danny's thoughts screamed. It was painful, someone's teeth piercing his flesh. He couldn't help thinking, _does Winchester hate me that much, that he won't even help me._ There was a moment when he honestly thought he was going to black out, then two gun shots rang out and the fanged man sprang off him.

"You okay?" Sam asked helping him up. His legs felt like jelly, blood was slowly dripping down his neck and back, but he was otherwise okay. Or, at least he thought he was. Before he could ask Sam if it was normal to feel like a rubber doll, the brunette hunter was already tending to his brother.

Dean had a huge bit out of his hand, blood dripping onto the ground. He ignored the gash as he got to his feet. He didn't look happy-_honestly does anything make him happy, _Danny thought wearily-as he said, "Freaking vampires. Probably gonna leave a scar." He was now looking at the cut, checking it over…_ Did he just say vampires_? Danny wasn't sure he heard correctly. _Vampires aren't real. No, that was just a story Louie told him to make sure he came home before dark. Vampires were only in movies, right._

"Dean," Sam threw his brother a warning glance. Apparently he wasn't supposed to say anything to Danny. That's what Mac was hiding from them. _But vampires, honestly that's not possible._

"Screw what that Taylor dude said," Dean snapped. "Vampires are real, they're attacking the city, that's why we're here." then the hunter walked out of the alley, still cradling his arm.

Sam shrugged at Danny's shocked, questioning look, and collected Dean's fallen gun. "You gonna be okay?"

"Not really," Danny said slowly. "Please tell me this is very bizarre, very demented dream?"

"I wish I could," Sam replied empathetically. "This is, in fact, all true. Vampires are real, along with some other nasty things, but my brother and I do what we can to make sure they don't kill too many innocent people." A horn sounded before Danny could respond, _impatient much_, his thoughts screamed at Dean.

"You look like you're about to pass out," Sam commented hiding a smile. Something on his face must have made him comment. In fact, Danny was actually surprised he hadn't started freaking out, running away from the younger brunette screaming.

"I'm a little freaked," Danny replied. Dean honked again, three short blasts that made him sound more like a dick than normal.

"We're coming," Sam called. He started out of the alleyway, Danny rushed to keep up.

"So, am I going to become a… a…" he couldn't bring himself to say the word vampire.

"A vampire?" Sam asked for him. Danny nodded, his glasses slipping to the edge of his nose. He pushed them back into place, looking up at the younger guy. "No. It takes a little more to make you a vampire. You'll be fine."

"Physically," Danny muttered. They finally reached the car, Dean looking murderous behind the wheel.

"Your brother is a… How do I put this lightly…?"

"A dick," Sam finished for him. Danny nodded, trying to hold back a smile.

"He's always a dick," Sam replied and got in the car. Danny followed just as his phone rang. He pulled it out, checking the ID. It was Mac.

"Mac, see any vampires lately," he answered lightly sticking the phone to his ear. His boss hesitated briefly then said, "Where are you?"

"We were held up by a vampire, two actually, but we're on our way now."

"Don't bother, we cleaned up the scene. The victim's name was Shelly Miles. She was thirty-four, a mother, and was killed the same way as the others."

"Vampires," Danny muttered the word like an icy knife to his throat. He never thought he'd be afraid to say one word. One word that was supposed to be a myth; _what's the point of myths if they are real_, he thought bitterly.

"Are any of you guys hurt?" Mac asked. It amazed Danny that his superior could be so concerned with not only him- _why wouldn't he we have known each other for a very long time_, he thought-but also two guys he hadn't known that long.

"I'm fine," Danny lied. He didn't want Mac worrying about a small thing like getting bitten by a vampire. What was the point; if Sam said he was going to be okay why let the older guy worry?

"Danny, did anyone tell you, you are a horrible liar?"

"I'm fine, Mac," Danny said firmly. "Don't worry about me. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" he hung up before Mac could say anything else. He told the Winchesters that they could just go back to their hotel, that they weren't needed. Dean growled-_if he's a werewolf I'm bolting_-and turned the car around, illegally, in a u-turn.

When they made it back to the motel Danny had to use all his self-control not to sprint to his bike. He kick started the bike and sped out of the parking lot. He sped all the way home; actually convinced someone was following him. When he made it home, he jumped off his bike and sprinted inside.

When he reached his apartment he threw open the door, closed it behind him, and locked ever lock. He scoped out his place, made sure everything was locked up tight, and turned on every light. He fell onto his couch, staring at the blank television screen. _Get a grip, Messer_, one voice said to him. _Shut up_, he snapped back. If vampires were real and if they were after him, then he was not going down without a fight. He took his gun out and kept a close ear on everything. Vampires would rue the day they came after Danny Messer.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

"There's more than one," Dean snapped opening the door with his right hand. He kept his left hand above his shoulder, hoping to stop the blood flow.

"Duh, they normally travel in packs. You know that, I know that…"

"Yeah, well, that just puts a damper on our rouge vampire theory. Plus, those bodies, how many vampires do you know that destroy the bodies…"

"Maybe they're making sure the bodies don't come back as vampires. Maybe they don't want new members. Maybe they just like the fact that they can destroy something…"

"That's a whole lotta maybes, Sammy," Dean replied. He shrugged off his jacket, throwing it over a chair. He walked into the bathroom, turning on the sink. Sam followed him into the bathroom, standing behind him.

"I'm just theorizing, Dean, I'm not saying it's true," Sam said crossing his arms across his chest.

"Well, we need to figure out where these vampires are. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's gotta be vampires."

"Dean, you sound like Gordon, and do you remember how corrupt he was? Remember those vampires who didn't drink human blood? They weren't that bad."

"Look, Gordon was a freak, I'll give you that, and I know those other vamps were okay, but they were also vampires. They drink blood, almost like a freaking cult, and it's disgusting." Dean finished cleaning his hand-the sink covered in his blood-and turned the water off. He walked out of the room, hand still held above his shoulder, and said, "I mean, who wants to spend the rest of their lives depending on someone or something for food? Who wants to have to hunt every night just to stay alive? It's just…just…"

"Malicious," Sam finished for him.

"Yeah, sure," Dean replied opening his bag. He started searching for the first aid kit, his hand slowly dribbling blood again.

"You do realize some vampires don't have a choice. Some are turned against their will," Sam said opening his own bag and extracting the kit. He handed it to Dean who grunted his thanks and set it on his bed. "Besides, now we know exactly what we are dealing with." Dean sat down, opening the kit.

"That's right. All we have to do is find their nest…" he cut off as he poured alcohol on his cut. It stung slightly, but he had a high tolerance for pain; it didn't bother him. "…find the nest and take them out." he wrapped his hand and closed the kit.

"The nest could be anywhere, Dean," Sam pointed out putting the kit away.

"Well, tomorrow we'll ask Taylor for the addresses of all the murders. We'll see if they were around the same area or not."

"Whatever," Sam muttered. He sat on the other bed, opposite Dean, and said, "You shouldn't have told Messer about the vampires."

"Yeah, but the look on his face was priceless. I wish I could do that every day."

"Dude, what do you have against this guy? So what, he's dating that Lindsay girl, it's not like you haven't hit on other girls who weren't interested." Dean glared at his brother, getting a smirk from Sam.

"I'll wipe that smirk off your face, Sammy," Dean snapped ignoring his brother's question. He lay back on his bed, turning away from his little brother.

"You know, Dean, you can be such a girl sometimes," Sam said. Dean could still hear his smile; he wanted nothing more than to drop kick his brother outside the door. He kept his back to Sam, listening to his brother get back into bed.

"Good night, Deana," Sam said flipping the light off.

"Screw you, Samantha," Dean retorted. Sam laughed and both went quiet afterwards. _Keep it up Sammy, and I will make you hurt_, he thought kicking his shoes off. _Keep it up_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Are they mine? God, I wish**

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

"You look like hell," Lindsay commented when Danny stepped out of the elevators the following morning. He hadn't slept at all the night before, his mind an array of strange images. He kept expecting some vampire to kick his door in, grab him by the hair, and finish the job.

"I'm fine," Danny lied. He walked past her, heading toward his office. She stayed right behind him. He was sure she said something, but he wasn't paying attention. He was trapped in his own head, freaking out. _What happens if the vampires attack him at work_? _What happens if they go after Lindsay_? It was like a rerun of the night before.

"Danny, are you there?" Lindsay touched his arm, pulling him out of his erratic thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he murmured turning to face her. He tried his best to give her a relaxed smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

"Are you… Oh my gosh, Danny what's that on your neck?" He could have kicked himself. He had forgotten about the bite marks, too preoccupied with staying alive. He put his hand to his neck, covering up the vampire bite, and said, "Nothing, honest."

"It looks like someone bit you," Lindsay said aghast. She tried to pull his hand away, trying to get a better look at the wound.

"It's nothing, I swear," Danny said trying to sound nonchalant. He watched Lindsay recoil, knowing he probably sounded like an ass to her. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening. "I'm okay, honest. It's nothing."

"Fine, I'll drop it," she said, but he could tell she was not happy about it.

"Thank you," he said draping his jacket across his chair. He was about to sit down, about to boot up his computer, when he noticed Dean and Sam following Mac to his office.

"Excuse me," he said and rushed after them. He managed to grab Mac's door before the older guy could close it. He pushed himself into the office, ignoring the bemused look Mac gave him.

"I thought I could help," he said sitting in one of the chairs. He spun it around to look at the others. He crossed his arms across his chest, challenging the others to kick him out.

"Let him stay," Dean said after a moment of silence. "Maybe he can get bitten again."

"Hey, did you take a look at your left hand lately," Danny retorted slyly. He gave Dean a small smile, waiting for his next move.

"Guys," Mac said forcefully, his tone cutting off Dean's response. Both guys glared at each other, but otherwise kept their mouths shut.

Sam muttered something that sounded like, "…acting like children," but Danny couldn't be sure. Truth be told, he really didn't care all that much either. Yes, he was acting like a child, but he wasn't the only one. Dean was acting the same way. _Asshole_, Danny thought glaring at the older Winchester.

"So, what are you doing here?" Mac asked the Winchesters, deciding to act like nothing was going on.

"We were just wondering if we could have the addresses of the five victims' crime scenes. We wanted to see if their deaths were in a common area. Maybe it'll lead us to the vampires' hideout," Sam answered when Dean neglected to say anything. _An asshole and a moron; man, can Mac pick 'em or what_, Danny thought trying hard not to smirk.

"Yeah, let me just log into my computer." Mac crossed the room, sitting at his desk. He was just typing in his password when a curly haired brunette woman walked in.

"Mac, I was wondering… You have guests?" Stella Bonasara's eyes swept over Dean and Sam.

"This is Sam and…"

"Dean, Dean Winchester," Dean said stepping forward. He held his hand out; Stella shook it giving him a curious look.

"Winchester? Are you John Winchester's sons?" she asked and Dean dropped her hand as if she electrocuted him. He stepped back slightly, wetting his lips.

"Stella was working with me when John came to town. He had introduced himself to her," Mac answered the Winchesters' unasked questions. He never looked up from his computer screen, but his expression was mildly amused.

"I was one of the only people he told his real identity to. So, you are Dean and Sam. The way he talked about the two of you it's like I already know you."

"He talked about us?" Sam asked slightly embarrassed. It was one thing when Mac mentioned that John brought them up once, but to have Stella telling them John just gushed on and on about them was another story.

"He had pictures of you two. You were the cutest baby I have ever seen. You both were." Both Winchesters flushed and averted their eyes away from Stella.

Danny was definitely trying to hold in a smirk now. Just the pure fact that Dean was utterly horrified was the funniest thing he had seen in a while.

"So, what are you guys doing?" Stella asked turning away from the Winchesters' red faces. She looked at Mac who was still on his computer. He hit a button and his printer started up, paper shooting itself out.

"We may have a lead on what is killing these people," Mac answered getting to his feet. He crossed the room, pulling the paper out of the tray.

"It's not werewolves again," Stella questioned getting three suspicious glances from Danny, Dean, and Sam. Obviously none of them believed she was in on the hunt that brought John to New York a decade before hand.

"What, I was one of the best officers Mac had; what was I going to do let him help Johnny on his own?" Stella's eyes swept across all three younger guys, waiting for them to protest to her question, "Besides, I had to drive their asses away from the hounds' lair afterward. They came out a lot worse for wear."

"Thanks for bringing up such fantastic memories, Bonasara," Mac said sarcastically, but threw her a quick smile. She smirked back, clasping her hands behind her back.

Mac held the paper out to Sam saying, "This all you needed?"

"Uh… yeah," Sam muttered shaking his head to clear it. He took it, looking over the addresses. They all seemed to be blocks away from each other.

"I think Danny can go with you two, show you how to get to those addresses. Maybe you three can get this situation cleared up before sunset."

"Sure," Sam said before Dean could open his mouth. He knew exactly what Dean was going to say. _Why would we want this annoying amateur going with us? Are you freaking crazy? Honestly that's like throwing a little kid into a nest of werewolves and letting them have free reign. And if the four eyed freak did survive the vampires he'd have to worry about me shooting him out of sheer irritation._

"Good. Be sure to call if you run into any trouble. I will be there in a second…"

"We've got it covered," Dean snapped cutting any other words of encouragement, or helpfulness, from Mac. He left the office abruptly not waiting for Danny and Sam to follow him. Danny rolled his eyes, getting sick and tired of Dean's attitude. Sam merely gave him a he's-always-like-this look and quickly followed his brother. Danny gave Mac a pleading look, not really wanting to go with the Winchesters.

"You can't get over anything unless you confront it head-on, Danny," Mac said lightly and waved him out of his office. Never as pissed at his boss as he was at that moment Danny let out a frustrated sigh and stormed out of the office.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Dean knew the lair was around there somewhere, the crime scenes weren't very far apart. He was tempted to ask Danny if there were any abandoned buildings around, but didn't really want to talk to him. _He's just a jack ass anyway_, he thought driving past the same building for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Unfortunately, or was it fortunately, Sammy didn't hold grudges like he did. His brother turned around and said, "Is there any abandoned buildings around here?"

Danny was looking out the window, watching the buildings go by. He had been oddly quiet; Dean was expecting him to be complaining the entire time. He looked over at Sam briefly and said, "One of those apartment building was going to be tore down and turned into an office building. That's a possible area."

"Fine, where is it," Dean muttered heading down a familiar block-_what the hell; they all look familiar to me_.

"That one," Danny replied pointing to a building straight ahead. Dean couldn't be sure which one he was pointing to, but he didn't say anything. What was the point in letting the college guy, the hotshot CSI think he was stupid. _Try taking on a horde of freaking demons and then talk to me about name calling_, he thought bitterly. He had to park a good 30 yards away from the buildings Danny indicated. He got out of his car, fed the meter with two quarters, and headed to the back of his car.

"Okay, how do you kill these things," Danny asked as him and Sam joined him at the trunk. Dean slowly loaded his green duffle bag with weapons: a couple machetes, a small ax, and a couple of other things that Danny was actually surprised the hunter could get away with.

"_We_ aren't doing anything," Dean finally said slamming his trunk closed. He zipped up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder

"What? I was sent to help you," Danny protested sounding like a little kid.

"How, by getting killed; no, you are going to stay out here. We don't have the time to make sure your ass is alright. Besides, that Taylor dude would probably kill us if you die. Let us do our job, so we can get the hell out of here." Danny was glaring at the younger hunter but didn't say anything else. "Stay by the car, if we get into trouble…" Dean pulled out his phone, handing it to Danny. "…Sammy will call you. You call Mac, get his ass here. Don't follow us in there." Before Sam could say anything to help Danny, Dean stalked away from the others heading toward the building. He still wasn't sure which building it was, but he'd figure it out.

"You realize Mac sent him to help us," Sam said catching up to his brother. Dean shrugged and continued walking. "Why are you so keen to _not_ use his help?"

"Because, Sammy, he is annoying and inexperienced," Dean replied simply. "Now, which damn building did he point to?"

"That one," a familiar voice answered. Dean spun around to see Danny, slightly out of breath, inches behind them. Dean rolled his eyes as he turned around toward the building straight ahead. He walked toward it, irritation rolling through his veins. _He's like a freaking seven-year-old, can't listen to save his life. Maybe I should just shoot him, put him out of his misery_. Ignoring his inner voice, he walked up a set of steps, stopping at a set of wooden, double doors.

"What are you waiting for?" Danny asked, "This is the perfect time to go inside; no one is on the street."

"Shut up," Dean hissed but pushed the doors. They opened with a loud creak, one that made Dean tense up. Vampires had better hearing than the average human, that creak probably woke all of them up. He stood in the threshold, listening for any signs of an attack. When he was satisfied nothing was going to fly at them, he stepped inside.

The interior had a musty smell to it, almost like the pages of an old book. The walls, once off-white, now had water and other unidentifiable stains all over them making them an array of colors. There was a hallway that led to a back door and a set of old, rickety stairs. Dean started up the steps, his footsteps quieted by the dusty carpet. He could hear Sam and Danny right behind him, the unmistakable sound of Danny loading his gun almost an echo through the otherwise silence.

When they reached the second floor a trail of blood met them. It started out as small drips, but the drips increased as the wounded person continued down the hall. Dean signaled to Sam to take the lead, handing him a gun. Sam nodded, accepting the weapon. He went ahead of his older brother, quietly creeping down the hall. Dean allowed Danny to go next, bringing up the rear. He kept his eyes peeled as he followed the others. One wrong move, one missed noise, and they all could be dead.

Sam reached the door first, waiting for the others to catch up. Dean pushed ahead of the others, looking down at the mini pool of blood. Dean couldn't help but be proud of his brother's perfect shot. _Dad did something good for you, Sammy_, he thought putting his hand on the door. It was slightly ajar, one push had it open. He was glad that door didn't squeak like the one downstairs.

The room was spacious, all the walls knocked down; wooden beams and plastic the only thing separating the original rooms. The windows were boarded up, the wood floors were nothing but dust, and the remaining green wallpaper was peeling from the walls leaving behind drywall. The back wall had one huge bookshelf, pushed against the wall, full of old, heavy books. Dean didn't waste time looking at the books, he never had time for them.

"This is the hideout?" Danny asked standing right behind him. Before he could turn around and yell at the older guy, someone kicked all three guys into the room. Dean landed first, Sam and Danny landing on top of him. All his air was knocked out as someone's elbow slammed into his stomach.

"I told you they would end up here," a female voice said.

"A little late, but yes you did," a male agreed.

"Let's kill them," a second female begged.

"Patients," a second, and final, male responded. "Let them get their footing."

All three guys scrambled to their feet, Dean still trying to catch him breath. He looked over at the four vampires. One female had red hair that fell down her back in waves. She was wearing a dirty, old, ripped wedding dressed that she probably stole from the owner (after killing her). The other female was blond, her hair short. She was in a pair of ripped jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee-shirt. _Shame to waste a good tee-shirt on scum like her_, Dean thought bitterly.

Out of the two males, one was a shorter than both girls. He also looked like the youngest. He had brown hair that fell to the base of his throat and was wearing a bloody jean jackets and a pair of green army pants. The second male was taller than the others with pitch black hair that stuck up all over his head. He was the cleanest by far in a black trench coat that covered black jeans and a black button down shirt. He also seemed to be the leader.

"You two are hunters," the leader commented looking directly at the Winchesters. Their famous scowls, something they picked up from their dad, were already put into place. The vampire merely smirked at them and turned to Danny, "You are the one Alec drink from, aren't you?" he was looking directly at Danny's neck wound causing the CSI to cover the mark with his hand.

"He tasted a tad bland," Alec commented picking at his teeth. "I had to wash his taste out with a young blond girl. Broke into her apartment while she slept."

"I drank from you," the blond woman said slowly, looking directly at Dean. "You're blood is the sweetest stuff I have ever tasted and I only got a nibble." She licked her lips, sighing with the thought of drinking from the young hunter again.

"You could have had more, Macey, if his idiot partner didn't shot us," Alec retorted glaring at Sam. Sam merely shrugged and said, "I hope it hurt." Alec attempted to attack Sam, but his boss held him back. Spitting and snarling, almost like a rabid cat, Alec fought against the restraint.

"Patience," the leader repeated, in a firmer voice than before, and the young vampire calmed down. "Are you going to act your age?"

"Yes," Alec sulked. Satisfied with the answer, the leader let him go.

"How old is that exactly," Dean asked smirking, "older than dirt?"

"You'll learn to eat your words, Winchester. Just like your daddy did," the black haired vampire said with a smirk. Dean felt his mind go numb; he didn't like hearing evil SOBs speaking about his father. Knowing he would have received a slap to the head for it, or a disapproved glance, he attacked the vampire.

It was still smirking when it took him by the throat and slammed Dean into the ground. The young hunter's breath left his lungs, for a second time, with a whoosh. Before he had time to recover he was dragged to his feet and thrown into one of the wooden beams. He knew he had probably several splinters, in various places, and a twisted ankle, but he got to his feet and looked around. Danny was firing at the female in the wedding dress, getting closer and closer to the wall while Sam was fighting against Alec and Macey. Their leader was stalking toward Dean, a crazed glint in his eyes.

Dean's eyes fell on his bag, still next to the door where he dropped it when he was first attacked. He was trying to figure out how to get to it when the black haired vampire reached him. His dad's training kicked in as the vampire threw a punch at him. Dean avoided the swing, slamming into the vamp's right side. The vamp stumbled a bit, but otherwise stayed standing. He jumped into the air, swinging his foot at Dean's head. Dean hit the floor, feeling the hit barely missing him; the wind blowing his hair.

He stood up on his knees and tackled the vampire. Both slammed into the ground skidding a few inches on the hard wood. The vampire laughed slightly then kicked Dean off of him. Dean slammed into a broken countertop, stars erupting behind him eyelids. He was pulled to his feet, his opponent coming into focus.

"I think I'll kill your brother first, just so you can watch," the vampire said. He had a hold of Dean's leather jacket, pulling the hunter up to his eye level. Dean's feet barely touched the ground.

"You touch my brother…" the hunter started between gasps.

"You'll what, Dean, yell at me? I don't think so." The vampire gave Dean enough of a view to see his brother take an army boot to the head, dropping like a sack of potatoes. Danny was thrown into a wooden beam, like Dean, but unlike Dean he didn't get back up.

"Where's your backup now, Deanie boy?" the vampire was smiling as he threw Dean into the bookshelf. The hunter slammed into it, crashing to the ground. All the books fell off the shelves, spilling over him. _Holy crap, these things are heavy_, was Dean's last thought before the bookshelf itself, having rotted over the years, fell with the books. It landed on the hunter causing everything to go black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Mine? Please. Possibly in another universe.**

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Mac checked his watch for the tenth time slightly worried. The Winchesters and Danny were still gone; they had left a good two hours before hand. He realized a hunt wasn't a nine second job, it took a lot of skill and time, but he had been expecting a word from them by now. He at least thought Danny would call to complain about Dean. It was childish that those two couldn't get along; the world was full of people who didn't get along, so why did it need two more.

"Just call them," Stella told him. She stood in the threshold, looking directly at her boss.

"My luck I call them and they are in the middle of staking out something. That something hears the phone and attacks them," Mac replied looking at his office phone. He was really tempted to check on the younger guys, one of them should have really called by then.

"I'll call Danny, if you want me to," Stella said her hands inches from pulling out her cell phone. Mac raised his hand, indicating to her to not bother, and picked up his phone. He dialed Danny's cell, one of the more familiar numbers to him, and waited. It rang once, twice, three times, then went to voicemail, "You've reached Danny's cell, I ain't there so leave your name and number and I'll get back to you." the phone beeped and Mac said, "Danny, where are you? You're not in trouble are you?" he tried to make it a joke, but he only sounded more paranoid. "Just call me, okay. Let me know you're okay." Mac hung up, looking worriedly at the phone.

"No answer?" Stella asked her own voice slightly worried now.

"No. No answer. You don't think something's up, do you?"

"Mac, Danny is with John Winchester's sons, they have been raised by one of the best hunters out there; I think he is okay. Even if Dean doesn't exactly like Danny, I doubt he'll let him get hurt. Just relax."

"Easier said than done, Stell," Mac replied. He turned his chair to face the window, trying not to picture Lindsay's reaction if Danny ended up dead; trying to ignore everyone's reaction if he ended up dead. _If they're not back in half and hour, I am getting Stella and Flack and going after them; Adam can triangulate their cell phones. There is no way I am losing Danny or John's kids. No way._

His phone rang, pulling him out of his worried thoughts. He answered it with a, "Danny?"

"No, Don," Flack responded. "We have another body. You might want to get here. It's the same MO as before."

"I'll send Hawks and Lindsay. They'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Okay." Flack gave Mac the address then hung up. Mac looked at Stella and said, "Have Lindsay and Sheldon go to this address; there's been another murder." Stella took the address from Mac and walked out of the office. He watched her go, still wondering where the others were.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

It was like needles were poking him in the brain. He wanted nothing more than to drift back into unconsciousness but his recent fight hit him like a ton of bricks and he sat up quickly. He wished he didn't as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He lay back, closing his eyes again.

"Are you okay," he heard a familiar voice ask him. He was disappointed that it wasn't his brother; that Danny was the one to ask. He really thought Dean would be the first one up.

"I feel like hell. Where's Dean," Sam asked attempting to sit up again. Slower than before, he was able to stay up. He looked around the small room they were in, noticing the lack of windows. The only way in or out was a door, situated across the room, which probably had a vampire guarding it. _A death trap_, he thought as his eyes flicked past the door. They fell on Danny who was bruised up, holding his side. His shirt was covered in blood, his arm still dripping the crimsoned liquid onto the floor. His glasses were gone, probably dropped in the struggle.

"Where's Dean," Sam asked again when Danny neglected to answer his question the first time. Danny paled slightly, obviously hoping Sam had forgotten to ask. His eyes flicked over to an unmoving shape on the floor.

"Dean?" Sam whispered crawling over to his brother. He knew it was childish, knew there was no excuse for it (_people aren't invincible)_ but he actually thought his brother was untouchable. That Dean Winchester could do anything, could pull through anything. He survived a death defying car crash, of course their dad sacrificed himself to save his brother, but Sam had faith Dean would have pulled through anyway. But all that was nearly thrown out the window when Sam took one look at his brother.

There was blood in his hair, the first thing he noticed. It was slowly dripping from a cut above his eyebrow. He was covered in bruises, each and every one of them a purplish color. Sam was sure if he lifted his brother's shirt, there would be more. Dean's beloved leather jacket was gone, one of the vampire stealing it, putting a clearly broken wrist into view. It was Dean's writing and shooting hand; Sam couldn't help but think _Dean is totally going to be pissed_. He didn't look like he was pain, in fact he looked years younger unconscious, but Sam could be sure the moment his brother woke up he would be hurting. _Not that he'll actually _say_ anything_, he thought bitterly.

"Dean, come on, wake up," Sam muttered lightly tapping his brother's face. The lack of a response really worried Sam; images of when he was younger and tying to wake his brother up hit him. Dean normally slapped his hand away saying, "Touch me again and you'll lose that hand."

"Dean, please wake up," Sam begged, louder. He needed to know his brother was okay. Needed to know that he wasn't about to abandoned by the last family member he had left.

His hand was still on Dean's face, still trying to wake him up, when Danny commented, trying to joke, "An unconscious Dean is a lot better than a conscious one." That's when Dean said, "I'll make your ass unconscious if you don't shut up. And get your hand off of me." Sam pulled away, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Okay, did I mention I hate vampires," Dean remarked sitting up. His face was an emotionless mask, but Sam saw the pain in his eyes. He knew it was pointless to tell his brother to take it easy. Dean wouldn't listen to him, telling him the classic, "Sammy, I'm fine."

"Yeah, you did," Sam replied quietly. Dean got to his feet, swaying slightly, and started walking the perimeter of the room. A couple times he nearly fell over, but he used the wall for support.

"I think you should sit down," Danny suggested stumbling to his own feet. He was about to help the stubborn hunter when Dean turned to look at him and said, "Get the hell away from me. I am fine. It was a bookshelf, no big deal."

"A bookshelf fell on you," Sam exclaimed jumping to his feet. The room spun, but he stayed standing. His brother was hurt worse than he was; there was no time for him to complain.

"It's no big deal," Dean repeated but slid to the floor anyway. His breathing was labored, which meant he probably had worse injuries internally.

"No big deal my ass, Dean," Sam snapped. "Stay in that position or so help me I will knock you out."

"I'd like to see you try," Dean muttered sullenly.

"Don't make me, Dean."

"Bitch," Dean said leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

"Jerk," Sam retorted with a small smile. It was a bit they had been doing since they were kids, ever since Dean taught Sam the meanings of all the swear words. Sam was sure their dad was going to wallop Dean into oblivion when Sam first called John one of those words. Funny thing was John wasn't mad. He just smiled and said, "That's my boy."

"Okay, how do you plan to get out of here," Danny asked ignoring the brotherly exchange. He couldn't help but feel a tad bit jealous; he and Louie were never as close as Dean and Sam. It could have been the age gap, could have been a lot of things, they just didn't share the brotherly love like the two Winchesters obviously did.

"We can't call," Sam responded slowly, lowering himself to the floor; the room was spinning again, worse than ever that time.

"I figured as much. Those vamps stole our phones." Danny was the only one capable of standing, his injuries obviously not bothering him like the others. _He's probably as stubborn as Dean_, Sam thought. His eyes snapped over to his brother, who was still leaning against the wall his eyes still closed. Sam couldn't be sure if he was conscious or not, but he was breathing which was what counted at the moment. Danny, on the other hand, thought differently.

"I think you two should stay awake, that's all I need is for you two to have a concussion and end up in a comatose state…"

"Wouldn't be the first time," both Winchesters said at the same time, thinking of the semi accident that nearly cost Dean his life and _had_ cost their dad his.

"Regardless," Danny continued. "Stay awake. I don't want to have to carry you. I feel like crap as it is, I ain't as young as I used to be. Besides, an old geezer like me, you'll probably throw out my back." He was trying to be funny, trying to at least get Dean to play along. If Dean could joke with Danny, if he could keep up a string of rude comments, he would probably stay awake. Sam waited for Dean to take the bait, to continue the spat the CSI started, but he didn't say anything.

"Dean?" Sam crawled over to his brother, worry pulsing through his veins. His brother's head lolled over onto his chest causing his body to slide closer to the ground.

"Come on, Dean, wake up," Sam begged tapping his brother's face again. He pulled his hand away when he felt the heat radiating off his brother's body. "Do you think Mac can find us?" he turned to look at Danny.

"Probably, I think we're in the same place as before. Maybe, if our phones aren't broken, he can triangulate them. That'll probably lead him right to us. Of course, then he has to fight four freaking vampires and find us. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well my brother's impending death may be one answer," Sam replied grimly, looking back at Dean's face. _Don't you dare leave me. Dad left us, don't be like him. I need you_, he thought. It nearly made him break down when Dean's words, the exact words he would say if Sam shared his thoughts with him, circled his head. "_Dude, if we're going to have a chick flick moment I swear I will make you walk to our next location._"

"Don't die on me. You're too stubborn to die," Sam muttered sitting back on his knees. "Don't you think about dying."


	7. Chapter 7

**Almost done re-updating. And no, they still aren't mine.**

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Driving down the street, heading to the new crime scene, Mac came across John's old car. He skidded to a halt, a car behind him having to swerve to miss him. Curiosity and worry pumping through his veins he parked his SUV against the curb, traffic strangely light for the afternoon, and hurriedly got out of the car.

He remembered riding in the black Impala, heading toward a lair of werewolves. He also remembered bleeding, a long scratch down his side, in the front seat. He could almost hear Stella yelling at him and John, who had a concussion, to stay awake. It took twenty stitches to put his skin back together. John had refused a hospital, telling them he didn't need one. He had called his friend Bobby Singer, someone Mac met only briefly, to patch him up. Now, the car was parked against a curb, abandoned and locked, two parking tickets on the windshield.

"Where is your owner," Mac muttered walking around the car. He stopped at the trunk, remembering the small arsenal of weapons back there. He couldn't speak for a solid ten minutes when John opened the trunk, staring at all the guns, knives, makeshift grenades, a machete, something that looked like a sword, salt, gasoline, and some weapons that Mac himself couldn't identify. John had taken one look at Mac and said, "They don't equip you with this stuff in the Marines, do they?"

"No they don't," he muttered, coming back to the present. He ran his hand along the cars body, walking away from the trunk, heading to the parking meter. It had run out a while ago, which explained the parking tickets. _I'll get Flack to take care of these_, he thought, _it's the least I could do. I just need to find them first._ He pulled his cell phone out, dialing the lab. He asked for Adam's department, waiting for the younger CSI to answer.

"What can I do for you?" Adam answered. He sounded like he was busy (_probably playing a computer game no doubt_, Mac thought wearily).

"Can you triangulate Danny's cell phone?" Mac asked and then thought, _do something productive instead of play some stupid game_.

"No problamo, Mac," Adam replied actually sounding happy to be doing something. He was weird sometimes, weirder than most of the CSIs. Mac waited a good ten minutes before Adam was back on the line giving him the location of the phone.

Mac checked the street signs, raising his eyebrows. Danny was on the same street he was on, give or take thirty yards away. "Thanks Adam."

"Anytime Boss Man. Hey, you know this case?"

"Yeah," Mac said warily. _Here it comes_.

"Well, it sounds like vampires. Wouldn't that be spooky if it was? A myth come true?" Mac knew Adam was joking but he couldn't help but smile at how right the young CSI was.

"That would be freaky," he agreed lightly. _You have no idea how freaky_. He hung up the phone before Adam could say anything else. He stored his phone back in his back pocket, extracted his gun from his inside coat pocket, and headed toward the building Adam indicated.

He opened a set of wooden double doors when he reached the place. The doors squeaked loudly, making him wince. How many vampires did he just attract? Hoping none, he continued inside. He headed down the hallway first, saving the stairs for last, and opened the back door. It led to another hallway, which lead to an emergency exit. He turned away from the door, letting it close softly behind him. He walked back to the stairs, and started up them.

When he reached the top, he noticed the blood first. Working for so long as a CSI he recognized a trap the moment he saw it. Obviously, one of the vampires figured Sam and Dean would show up and set them up; Mac couldn't figure out how Danny could fall for it. _Come on, Messer, you graduated top of your class at the police academy, you know a trap when you see one_, he silently scolded his friend. Then he had to ask, how the hell did John's kids not see it? He knew for a fact John would have seen it, would have known. _Young people don't pay attention anymore_, he thought shaking his head.

Figuring the trap had been set and sprung, that the vampires had to be out somewhere else, he followed the blood. The trail led him to a wide open door. The room inside, already in bad shape from the work being done to it, had a few signs of a fight. A couple wooden beams were broken; looking like someone was thrown at them. There was a small puddle of blood by a broken bookshelf; a couple of the pieces were moved, like someone had been dug out from the pieces. A green bag stood a few inches from the door, zipped up tight.

Mac moved toward the bag, crouching down next to it. He recognized the bag almost immediately; John had used the same bag when they hunted the werewolves. He wasn't surprised that John's boys still had it. He unzipped the bag, revealing a small pile of weapons; including a small, sharp ax. He found a few bottles of holy water at the bottom, along with a silver stake, and a gun. There were a couple of other things in the bag, but he ignored them as he re-zipped the bag. He slung it over his shoulder, getting to his feet, and headed out the door. Before he could head back down the steps, he noticed more blood leading up another set of stairs.

Mac unzipped the green bag again, took out the small ax, and followed the blood. His gun felt like a toy compared to the ax. A conversation between him and John came back to him, _"Criminal aren't the only thing that can harm this city. What do you know about the supernatural?"_

_"What like vampires, ghosts, demons…? Where are you going with this John?"_

_ "They're real, Mac, real as you or me. And that's what is attacking your city. Not a murderer, a werewolf."_ Mac didn't believe John until he saw the wolf with his own eyes. Sometimes he still couldn't believe him.

The blood led him the third floor, he didn't run into a vampire once. He was starting to get paranoid again, waiting for an undead figure to jump out of nowhere and attack him. The blood trail finally went dry, right outside a storage closet. Mac put his gun away, gripping the ax tighter in his left hand, and placed his hand on the doorknob. Slowly, tension rolling through his body, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

He had enough time to see a dark, windowless room, when a figure flew at him. He was knocked to the ground, the ax flying out of his hand. It hit the wall, landing on the floor with a flop. The vampire attempted to bite Mac, but he kicked her off. She flew through the air, landing on her feet a few inches from him. She was wearing a dirty wedding dress, a brown leather jacket covering her arms. Mac recognized the jacket in seconds.

"You realize that's not yours, right," he said softly. Instead of replying she flew at him again. He dove to the side, rolling to his feet next to the ax. He picked it up, weighing it in his hand, and turned to see the vampire soaring at him. He swung the ax, nicking her in the neck. She let out a piercing scream as she landed on the ground.

"I'm not a big fan of killing people," Mac started looking down at the withering vampire, "but I can't count you as a person." He swung the ax, finishing off the vampire. It took three good swings, but finally her head parted with her body.

Once she stopped withering, Mac crouched down and took the jacket off of her. He slung it over his left shoulder. The green duffle bag was grinding into his right shoulder, but he ignored it as he entered the now empty storage closet. He checked every square inch, made sure no one was in there, and walked out. He was disappointed, he really thought he had found Danny and the Winchesters, but he hadn't.

He pulled his phone out, about to call Adam and ask him if he had given him the correct address, when he spotted more blood. It led up, to the fourth and final floor. Taking a deep breath, readying himself for another attack, he headed up the steps.

The bag was digging deeper into his shoulder, making him seriously wonder how those boys carried it, when he finally reached the top. His ax was still dripping with the vampire's blood, the blood sliding down his jacket making the blue darker with the crimsoned liquid. He ignored it knowing he had had blood on him before.

He followed the new trail, creeping ever so quietly down the hallway. He kept his ears and eyes peeled for any unsuspecting sounds. All he needed was to be attacked by a second vampire before he found the guys.

The blood led him to another storage closet; readying himself he grabbed the doorknob and turned…

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Flack noticed how distracted Lindsay was as she took photos of the crime scene. He figured one of two things happened: Danny and her had a fight or they broke up. If they broke up I will throttle him alive, Don thought trying not the picture his best friend breaking Lindsay's heart. Lindsay did Danny some good; he didn't need to be a bachelor all his life.

"What are you staring at," a voice asked causing Don to jump. He spun around to see Sheldon staring directly at him. His gloves had some blood on them, the crimson color sparkling in the winter sunlight. "Not trying to steal Danny's girl are you? Because he already has some competition."

"Who?" Flack asked eyeing Hawks curiously. He was guilty, somewhere in his subconscious, for talking about real life while a girl was dead. Someone had broken into her apartment, kicked the door in by the looks of it, and killed her. She had been ripped apart, her blood and body parts splattered all over her bedroom. It was as bad as the first five deaths, Don felt like he was going to puke. Maybe talking about normal things helps me cope, he thought not really easing his guilt any.

"One of Mac's so called 'experts'," Hawks replied. Flack could see the same guilt he felt in Sheldon's eye, but he also noticed the eye roll.

"You don't believe their experts on this stuff?" Flack asked. He hadn't officially met the two guys, but Danny, Lindsay, and Sheldon had told him about them. Lindsay had been her nice, charming self and said they were 'two okay guys.' Not many people made Lindsay mad. Danny had bitched for a good ten minutes about one named Dean and then mentioned the other, Sam, in passing. Sheldon was the only one that questioned their professionalism with the case.

"I honestly don't know. I saw the two guys leave with Danny today; he hasn't called since they left. Stella told us he didn't call and that Mac was worried. She seemed worried, too."

"If two complete strangers left with Danny and he hasn't been heard from…" that explains why Linds is so bummed, Don thought glances over at the brunette CSI.

"I don't think they're strangers, though."

"What?" Flack's eyes snapped back to Hawks. The CSI was wearing a solemn expression as he said, "I think Mac knows these two, however distantly. I did some digging and it appears that Mac knew another Winchester named John. Maybe John was a brother or an uncle…"

"Or their dad," a voice snapped scaring the crap out of both guys. They both looked at Lindsay's irritated expression. Obviously she wasn't happy that they were neglecting their jobs, that they were both being heartless, that they weren't being sensitive to the dead.

"Sorry Linds," both guys muttered at her scolding look. She shook her head, her look wilting slightly and said, "Its okay. I have all the pictures, can we just go?"

"Yeah, I'm sure any finger prints I find will be a dead end, anyway," Sheldon muttered.

"What do you mean?" Flack asked suddenly curious with the case again.

"Well, I ran a set of finger prints for the Gates murder, you know the third victim, and the results came back to a dead man."

"Danny was telling me about this," Lindsay said quietly her voice an emotionless mask when she said his name; the worry was still in her eyes, though.

"Well, the suspect was a missing case, about fifteen years ago, in Minnesota. His name was Devin Thomas; he was a college student who went missing on a ski trip with some friends. His family looked for him for about three years before they decided he was dead…"

"How do you know he's dead then? He could be committing these murders in anger…"

"Flack, how many people do you know who can rip people apart this effortlessly?" Sheldon cut Don off, looking sickly around the bloody, wallpapered room.

"Good point," Don muttered.

"Danny said something about zombies," Lindsay whispered. "He said he was joking, but what if…"

"Linds, you do realize that zombies are just in monster movies, right?" Flack asked trying and failing to make a joke. He took one look around the room and actually had to remind himself that zombies were myths.

"Yeah, well it's a better explanation than some psycho chopping people up," Lindsay retorted as her cell phone rang. "Monroe," she answered professionally. Flack watched her face as it went from expressionless to worried in ten seconds. "Is he okay?" she was silent for a moment, listening to whoever was on the other line. "Okay, I'll be right there. Bye." She hung up handing the camera to Hawks.

"Who was that?" Sheldon and Flack said together.

"Mac, he said that Danny is at the hospital. I've have to go see him," Lindsay replied heading toward the door. Flack was tempted to go with her, but he realized he was the lead cop on the case; he couldn't go.

"I'm sure he's fine," Hawks said referring to the cop's worried expression.

"It's Danny; do you honestly think he's fine?" Flack gave Sheldon an incredulous look, his eye brows raised to emphasize his question.

"Touché," Sheldon muttered gripping the camera tighter; his face matching Flack's worry by tenfold.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Sam sat in the ER, curtain drawn around him, watching as a nurse stitched up his wounded head. The boot to the skull had broken the skin slightly, only taking two stitches, and didn't give him a concussion. Which was good, he really wanted to take out those vampires for Dean. Thinking of Dean made Sam immediately regret agreeing to the hospital visit. Dean hated hospitals, his fear had grown tenfold after their father had died in one and he nearly died in one. It was fear that had started as an implanted idea from their dad. John always saw hospitals as the next step to jail. A doctor does enough digging he ends up finding some type of record on you and the cops are called. Both boys kept their freedom in tact by lying to doctors before, but Mac had given the hospital staff their real names, save their last name which he said was Taylor (apparently they were his nephews from Minnesota. Sam had never been to Minnesota unless a job counted and it really didn't). If it kept them out of trouble it was okay with Sam, but Dean was another subject.

At the moment Dean was in x-ray, getting his ribs and wrist checked out. He had spiked a slight fever when he, Danny, and Sam were stuck in the storage closet, but it was nowhere as dangerous as some of their fevers. They had been hurt a lot worse in their line of work, a few degrees over the ideal body temperature was something that didn't worry them anymore.

He had insisted on walking when Mac found them, but his sprained ankle and internal injuries pretty much stopped his demand in its tracks. Danny and Sam had helped him down the stairs, Dean pouting the entire way. I swear if I didn't know his real age I would have thought he was a freakishly, over-grown seven-year-old, Sam thought bitterly. He winced when the nurse put anti-bacterial stuff on his cut, she told him that he didn't need any antiseptic on the wound, that it wasn't that bad.

"So, how did this happen?" the nurse asked curiously. She was a petite red head, her hair in a braid down her back. She wore red scrubs that clashed horribly with her hair-"Dude, can you be gayer" Sam heard his brother's voice in his head which made him shake his head.

He had a feeling that if his brother was there, in his place, he would be hitting on the nurse. Dean hit on most girls, really not discriminative towards any. He was like a walking billboard for bad pick-up lines, but for some reason most girls took the bait. When Sam was younger he always envied Dean for that skill, now he just thought it was sad.

"How did this happen," the nurse repeated looking at Sam like she was about to order a CAT-scan for him.

"Dean and I were biking, at the park something we do from time to time. In Minnesota it's colder sometimes, so we were used to the winter air. We were riding toward each other, Dean yelled, 'Let's play chicken' and I stupidly agreed. Dean's stubborn, I'm stubborn, and we ended up crashing into each other. Danny, who had went with us to show us around-Uncle Mac asking him to-wasn't paying attention and ran my brother over with his bike. He flew over his handlebars, slamming into the ground…," Sam lied smoothly. He always had a knack for lying, one reason why he wanted to be a lawyer. It was one of the only things he inherited from their dad that Dean didn't. Dean couldn't fib his way out of a paper bag; it just wasn't in his blood to lie.

"In other words, you guys are idiots," the nurse said lightly.

"Yeah," Sam replied quietly, giving the nurse the best, fake embarrassed smile he could. She ate it up like he was a particularly delicious piece of chocolate. He had always had that affect on girls, Dean hit on them, and he played-what Dean called-the "cute" card. Then his brother would scoff and comment, "When you're old and wrinkly and the 'cute' card punches out then you'll regret never hitting on girls." To which Sam would roll his eyes and change the subject.

"I swear my brothers were the same way," the nurse said getting to her feet. "I am actually shocked they survived childhood." Shaking her head she walked out of the curtained area, pulling it back to reveal Mac.

"Danny's with Lindsay; she wasn't too happy with his new injuries, but she's glad he's okay," Mac said quietly taking the nurse's unoccupied stool. Sam crossed his arms across his chest, nodding. "Your brother may have to stay here over-night you know. He's hurt worse than you two; that also means he won't be able to help us with killing the remaining vampires."

"And he'll be as sullen as ever, but he'll understand; deep down. I am still shocked you killed a vampire. I only thought our dad taught you about werewolves."

"Werewolves, vampires, demons, ghosts, and some other things; what I taught him in basic training was nothing to what he taught me. After he left I studied up, researched and found some other hunters, I keep in touch with a couple. I was actually surprised when I found out John died from a hunter in Georgia…"

"That's why you didn't ask us about him?" Sam asked quietly. He still wasn't comfortable talking to anyone about his dad's death. He and Dean hadn't really spoken about it much, and now some guy they met twenty-four hours ago was talking about it. It just wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss at the time.

"Yeah, anyway it hit me hard. Stella still doesn't know; I didn't know how to tell her. I'm sure she'll need to know eventually." Sam was waiting for Mac to ask how John died. A fleeting image of their dad, who made a deal to bring Dean back from the brink of death, hit him so suddenly that the room spun for a second, then it was gone and Mac was looking at him again.

"I know what it feels like to lose someone, what it feels like to never be able to see them again. It's just painful to realize that you're alive and kicking while they are dead. It's not healthy to think that way, but we do."

Sam was on the verge of asking Mac who he lost when his brother was wheeled toward them. A tall, gangly orderly was pushing the chair which explained his sullen look. "All the hot nurses here, Sammy, and they stick me with Lurch," Sam could almost hear him say. Holding back a grin, Sam looked his brother over. He had a brace around his wrist, which would be a problem for Dean, like, five minutes ago. His left ankle was wrapped, while his steel-toed, dirty, brown work boot was sitting in his lap. His head, the cut above his eyebrow, was patched up; a small strip of gauze covering it.

"Any other injuries," Sam asked once the orderly disappeared around a corner.

"Except his pride, I'd say none," Mac muttered getting a glare from Dean. Sam could tell the glare was half-hearted, though. Dean knew he owed Mac, plus he looked drugged up. They had to of given him something for his wrist, which was probably the worst pain.

"Can we go?" he asked grumpily.

"You probably not," Mac replied cautiously.

"That's freaking great," Dean muttered in a disgruntled tone.

"I'll check for you, but I doubt they'll let you go…"

"I'm an adult," Dean started while Sam thought a quarter of the time, "I should be able to decide when I can and can't leave."

So, after his tantrum, which Sam would give him grief for later, Dean got to leave the hospital. The doctor told him-after trying and failing to discourage his discharge-that he should take it easy. To which Dean replied, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Sam rolled his brother out of the hospital, Mac following them with a set of crutches, and toward the Impala. Danny was nowhere in sight, already hitching a ride with Lindsay back to his place. Sam helped a stubborn Dean into the passenger seat, stashed his crutches into the back seat, and ran the wheelchair back into the hospital. When he reached the car a second time, he got in the driver seat and held out his hand for they keys.

"Here are the damn keys," Dean snapped digging the keys out of his dirty jeans and slamming them into Sam's hand. Holding back an eye roll, actually wondering if Dean's negative energy could siphon off on others, he put the keys in the ignition and started the car.

Before they could spark a conversation, Dean pushed in an Ozzy cassette and turned the radio up loud. Smiling a mischievous grin, just curious as to how pissed Dean could get and not really wanting to listen to Ozzy, Sam ejected the tape and flipped on an oldies station.

"What the hell," Dean exclaimed watching his brother toss his beloved tunes in the back of the car.

"House rules, Dean; driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cakehole," Sam responded using Dean's own words against him. Smirking at the livid look on his brother's face Sam looked both ways and pulled back onto the street.


	8. Chapter 8

_**If these characters were mine there would be more blood. A lot more blood.**_

_**SN/ CSI: NY**_

Danny couldn't help but notice that Lindsay was very quiet. She also wouldn't look at him, which was indication that she was relieved into silence or really, really pissed off at him. I'm betting it's the second one, Danny thought. He stole another glance at his quiet girlfriend and muttered, "How was your day?"

"Fine," she replied stiffly as she stopped at a red light.

"Was there another crime scene?" he asked already knowing the answer. The vampire, Alec, had already told him about the sixth victim.

"Yeah, how did you…?"

"I have to tell you something," Danny muttered shifting his gaze away from Lindsay. She was eyeing him cautiously, but nodded in encouragement to continue.

"You might want to pull over," he suggested just thinking about the car slamming into a pole or something worse (like a pedestrian). Lindsay complied asking, "What is this about, Danny?"

"I guess you're wondering how I got hurt," he said slowly. He could almost hear Mac's words, as they followed Sam and Dean to the hospital. "You're in on this now, Danny. You can't tell anyone this secret, not even Lindsay. It's too dangerous for her." He couldn't help but think, Sorry, Mac, but she has the right to know.

"Yeah, I am," she replied looking directly at his bandage arm and bloody shirt. He was actually surprised he was in better shape than the two younger Winchesters. Hunters ain't all that, he thought smugly.

"Well," Danny continued pushing his petty thought aside, "something happened to me and the Winchesters and that's why I'm hurt."

"Was it the killer? Danny, were you attacked by this sick-o who is killing those poor people? Did he attempt to hurt you the same way…" she paled slightly, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.

"Calm down, Montana, calm down," Danny murmured comfortingly. He gently pried her hands off the steering column and took them in his own. "You need to breathe, just breathe, Linds." She complied, taking deep, calming breaths. Once she was calmer he continued, "Yes, we were captured by the murderer. There is actually four (or three now that Mac took care of one)…"

"You mean, like, he…he killed one of them," she whispered in awe.

"Something like that, but he was being attacked by her, so defended himself." Lindsay was about to interrupt again, but Danny put a finger to her lips and said, "Let me finish." She nodded and he took his hand back. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "We were captured by vampires, Lindsay…"

Lindsay's mouth fell open in astonishment; Danny couldn't tell if she believed him or not, but he thought that if she wasn't speaking she wasn't yelling which was good enough for him. Then she snapped out of her stupor and said, "You are the most… You are an… Get out."

"W…what," Danny stammered, taken by surprise.

"Get out," Lindsay whispered tears, of anger, developing in her eyes. "Get the hell out and walk. You are such an ass; I don't want to see you right now."

"What," Danny repeated his mind numb.

"Just get out, Danny," Lindsay repeated for the fourth time. Still not sure what was going on, Danny grabbed the door handle and opened it. He got out, barely getting the door closed when Lindsay sped away from him.

"What the hell just happened," he muttered watching her car disappear behind the corner. Kicking a rock, he started walking in the direction of his apartment, oblivious to the dark figure watching him from the shadows of an alleyway.

**SN/CSI: NY**

Lindsay was fuming when she pulled up to the crime lab. She threw the door, to the SUV, open and headed toward the building, nearly running into Flack.

"Hey, easy Linds; you nearly took me out," he said smiling. His smile wilted when he noticed the livid look on her face. "What's up…?"

"Danny just told me… It doesn't matter." She tried to go around him, but he grabbed her shoulders and kept her in place.

"He told you what?"

"He told me that he and the Winchesters were captured by vampires. How stupid does he think I am? I mean honestly, vampires. He's just… he jokes around too much."

Flack let his hands drop to his sides, something hitting him. He never believed himself to be superstitious, or a believer in the supernatural, but vampires seemed like the only explanation. And you, Don, are on crack, he thought holding back an eye roll.

"Maybe he was captured by actual psychos and blocked out the experience by saying it was… vampires," Flack muttered slowly.

"Or maybe it was vampires," a voice said behind Flack and something connected with his head. The last thing Don heard before he blacked out was Lindsay scream.

**SN/CSI: NY**

Sam was trying not to laugh as he watched his brother try and maneuver the crutches across the icy parking lot of the motel. He was actually tempted to let his brother entertain him some more, but he realized, quite suddenly, that their room was on the second floor and Dean was not really good with crutches.

"Let me help you," Sam said rushing over to him. Dean attempted to wave him away but the left crutch fell to the ground and he nearly fell over.

"How the hell do they expect me to get anywhere on these damn things," Dean grumbled as Sam picked up the fallen crutch.

"It's all about skill, bro. You've obviously never been to a doctor after hurting your leg, so you've never had these things…"

"And you have?"

"At Stanford, during my second semester of my first year, I fractured my ankle after falling down the stairs…" he took his brother's arm and helped him up the stairs. He was trying not to hurry, but Dean's boot really stunk, like sweat, and it was making his eye water.

"Drunken party, Sammy," Dean asked raising his eyebrows in wonder. Apparently he was immune to his own stench.

"Studying for finals," Sam replied quietly. "I was carrying a pile of books, not sure where I was going, and missed a step…"

"Nerd," Dean muttered as they reached the top of the stairs. Sam let his brother walk on his own afterward as he headed toward their room. He unlocked the door and held it open as Dean awkwardly crossed the threshold. He fell into the first chair, setting his crutches next to his feet. Sam tossed his boot by Dean's bed and closed the door.

"Okay, I am going to shower than call Mac. We need to regroup and figure out what we are going to do about the remaining vampires," Sam said digging in his bag for a change of clothes.

"Fine and I'll sit here," Dean muttered. Maybe burn these damn crutches, he thought bitterly glaring at them. Sam caught the glare, decided not to comment, and walked into the bathroom.

After his shower-it felt so good to get the blood, dirt, and sweat off of him-he toweled dry, dressed, and walked out of the room to see Dean talking to Sheldon. Sheldon was seated on Sam's bed speaking in a low rush.

"What's going on?" Sam asked joining the other two.

"Hawks just told me that Lindsay and Flack have been captured. He was told by Mac to come to us. We've gotta go…" Dean was actually on his feet, ready to go, when Sam gestured for him to sit.

"We are doing nothing. You need to chill out here, let that ankle heal…"

"Sam, come on. I have fought injured before…" Dean protested.

"Stay here, Dean. I mean it."

"I'm older than you, Sammy…" Dean started.

"And I'm bigger than you. Plus, I don't have a sprained ankle or a broken wrist. I don't have three cracked ribs; I don't have an entirely bruised body… Do you see what I'm saying, dude? I could totally take you down in seconds."

"I hate you," Dean muttered but sat back down. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the floor in a sullen matter.

"Stay with him," Sam said looking at Sheldon. "Make sure he stays here. And if he tries to leave use any force necessary to keep him here."

"What are you going to do?" Sheldon asked curiously.

"Go get Mac, and find your friends," Sam replied grabbing his jacket off of a chair. Throwing it on, he headed out the door, closing it behind him with a click.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for reading, please leave a comment, and thanks for being patient as I re-updated. And I still don't own these characters.**

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Lindsay woke up with a pounding headache. She couldn't tell where she was except that the room was old, windowless, and smelt like blood and sweat. She was sure that there was an actual puddle of blood by the door. She stumbled to her feet, ready to stagger to the door, when she tripped over a figure lying on the floor. As she landed on the floor again she heard a familiar groan of pain.

"Flack," she said quietly turning to see him wince as he sat up. His blue eyes were slightly glassy, but were slowly focusing as he took in his surroundings. He looked at Lindsay and muttered, "Where the hell are we?"

"That's a good question," Lindsay replied quietly. Before either one could comment again the door opened and a pale, dark, malicious man walked toward him.

"Devin?" Lindsay said suddenly remembering the name Hawks said to Flack. She hoped if the guy heard his name he'd stop, re-think what he planned to do, but he didn't. He continued to walk toward them, stopping next to Flack.

"I'm hungry," he commented hauling the cop to his feet. Lindsay had never seen Flack shake like he was then, his whole body one big tremor. Devin ignored the cop's reaction as he sank his teeth into his neck.

_Oh my gosh, Danny hadn't lied to me_, Lindsay thought as she screamed, "Devin, stop." The vampire let the cop go, allowing him to slump to the ground. Flack's blood was on his lips, running down his chin.

"Like drinking the sweetest drink on the planet," he commented wiping the blood off his face. He licked the blood off his fingers, as if it was merely Popsicle juice. He then smiled down at Lindsay who was slowly backing away from him.

"Oh, I'm not going to drink from you. Not yet at least. I never over-indulge myself with more than one food source." He looked down at Flack who was sliding toward the wall, holding his bleeding neck.

"But, I can't say much for my _friends_. They aren't happy that the older guy killed Malory. She didn't deserve the fate she got. Her body had to be burned, we burnt her. But it still was painful, you know, to burn someone we knew. That's why you two are here; Alec has been tracking the guy with the glasses, hoping to finish what he started, when he saw you two together." He looked at Lindsay who was still trying to shrink away from Devin. "He called me, told me about you, and I tracked you down. It was just a lucky mistake that this man was with you." he looked back at Flack. "Lucky for me, I must say.

"Listen to me; I always tell Macey and Alec not to play with their food and that's exactly what I am doing. Let me just finish up with the cop and then I'll get to you." Devin was half-turned toward Don when he heard someone yell, "Boss, Winchester!"

"I'll be back," Devin promised turning on his heel. His trench coat swished as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Don," Lindsay whispered crawling over to the slightly disoriented cop. He still held his neck, which had slowly stopped bleeding. "Let me see your wound." Lindsay pulled his hand away from the bite. She noticed it matched Danny's exactly. _I can't believe he was telling the truth. But how could vampires be real? It's all myths, right_, she thought trying to stay calm.

"I guess the Winchesters are experts on killing vampires," Don attempted to joke, his voice shaky. Lindsay let out a small laugh, which sounded too high pitched and hysterical for her own.

"And I guess Danny isn't a lying jerk after all," Lindsay whispered sitting against the wall.

"I can't believe I just got bitten by a vampire…"

"…and you were compared to the 'sweetest drink on the planet.'"

"It's because of my mom's lasagna," Flack muttered still trying to joke in their situation.

"That's exactly it," Lindsay muttered softly. "Tomato sauce, noodles, and cheese will make any vampire like your blood." _Why the hell am I joking with him? If that vampire kills Sam or Dean (which ever one is here) then we both are dead,_ she couldn't help thinking. It was like her reasoning left the building; almost like her body knew she might die and made her less fearful and conscious of her situation.

"At least Danny's okay," Lindsay said thinking of the man she kicked out of her car because she assumed he lied to her. _You know what they say about assumptions… STOP IT_.

"What does this sitituation have to do with Messer being okay?" Don asked curiously.

"I just don't want to think of him being stuck here with us. At least he's safe and not on the brink of death."

"Do you honestly think we are on the brink of death?"

"If we survive this, if the Winchesters help us and don't die themselves, it'll be a freaking miracle."

"Well I for one am banking on that miracle," Don muttered sitting up straighter. _Boy I wish I shared your optimism, Flack, I really do_, Lindsay thought weakly. _I really, honestly do._

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Mac didn't want Danny to know about Lindsay's capture, didn't want him there just in case he and Sam were too late to save her, but someone obviously called him. He was there, trying to avoid the swinging fist of Alec. Sam was taking on Macey, who had a mean high kick. He seemed to be avoiding her combat boot, looking like he had experience with it already. That left Mac and Devin. Devin was skilled, knew every counter attack for anything Mac threw at him.

He had been disarmed a good ten minutes into the fight, his machete a few feet away from them. He couldn't quite figure out how he was going to get the weapon, _straight A's in high school and college and you can't figure out how to get a fricking machete. You're losing it Taylor_, he thought to himself holding back an eye roll.

Devin swung at his head; Mac ducked feeling the wind brushed past him. He had enough time to see Sam take out his vampire and run to help Danny before he was slammed into the ground by his opponent. Devin leaned toward Mac's neck, ready to take a bite.

"I'm not food," he muttered and slammed his head into the vampire's nose. Devin sprang to his feet, screaming profanities. Mac rolled to his feet, scooping up the machete. He weighed it in his hands, a sense of déjà vu hitting him. Devin flew at him; Mac took the opportunity and swung the machete directly at the vampire's head. He missed, slicing straight through his arm. The vampire screamed as his arm fell to the ground, blood pouring out of the wound.

"I guess I missed," Mac said sarcastically.

"You won't get another shot," Devin screamed. He jumped up, slamming his feet into Mac's chest. The CSI slammed into the ground as the vampire sprinted up the stairs.

"Danny," Mac yelled, "Sam, go after him." the younger guys, who had just killed Alec, both raced up the steps after Devin; Danny picking up Mac's weapon on the way.

Mac got to his feet, gasping for breath. He hadn't had a hit like that since the werewolf, _I am too old for this shit_, he thought as he chased the younger guys up the steps.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Danny skidded to a halt behind Sam, just as Devin reached a grimy door. Devin smiled, ignoring his bleeding stump, and kicked the door in. He raced inside, a loud, familiar scream filling Danny's ears, and exited gripping Lindsay by the shoulder.

"Let her go," Danny snarled noticing the tears rolling down Lindsay's eyes. He wanted to go help her, but he wasn't sure if Devin would hurt her or not. The vampire smiled, his fangs flashing, and said, "Would you like to watch her die?"

"L…let her go," Danny repeated, a stammer in his voice.

"Why would I…" a loud yell cut Devin off. A figure flew at him from the room. Throwing Lindsay to the side, Devin spun around and grabbed Flack by the throat. "No, I don't think so." With a slight grunt he flung Don at Danny and Sam. All three guys hit the ground and Devin grabbed Lindsay taking her up a flight of stairs.

"Lindsay," Danny yelled pushing Don off of him. He jumped to his feet, his leg nearly collapsing under him. He ignored it, grabbing his machete, and rushed up the stairs after the vampire. He heard someone yell his name, but he didn't respond. Whatever they had to say didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was Lindsay's safety and the death of that swine Devin. He continued up the stairs, reaching a lone doorway. He crashed through it ending up on a roof.

Devin was standing near the edge, holding Lindsay over it. He laughed when Danny slid to a halt. "I really don't want to kill her, but if I have to I will," Devin commented looking up at Lindsay's trembling form.

"Please, let her go. Take me, kill me," Danny begged the machete shaking in his hand. He didn't want to see Lindsay die; she was of the only things keeping him sane in the insane world he lived in.

"I don't know, I mean Alec did say you were bland…"

"Come on, he was a lackey, what taste does he have?" Danny asked trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. He couldn't tell if he was getting to Devin or not, but he had to try.

"If you're sure," Devin muttered in a longing voice. _He just wants the blood, what difference if it comes from me or Lindsay_, Danny thought looking the vampire in the eye.

"As sure as I'll ever be," Danny replied and dropped his machete for proof.

"Danny…" Lindsay begged.

"Its okay, Montana, I'll be fine."

Devin set Lindsay on her feet and attacked Danny. He hit the ground, his head cracking into the cemented ground. The last thing he felt and heard before he passed out was a set of fangs sinking into his skin and someone screaming.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Mac crashed through the door, leading to the roof, just in time to see Devin slam into Danny. Danny went down without a fight, slamming his head into the ground. Mac rushed forward, unaware of Don and Sam's arrival; he tackled the vampire off of Danny slamming him into the ground.

"Mac, move," he heard someone say. He rolled off the vampire just as Sam jumped forward and decapitated it. Devin convulsed for a good ten seconds before he stopped.

"Is he dead for good," Mac asked getting to his feet.

"Yeah," Sam replied breathing heavily.

"Good," Mac muttered and rushed over to Danny. Don and Lindsay were already over by him, both too afraid to touch him. "Let me see him." Mac dropped down, next to the younger CSI and first checked his pulse. It was slow and steady despite the blood leaking out of a second bite wound. Then he checked for any other wound.

"Mac, stop mothering me," Danny said weakly as he opened his eyes. His blue eyes were slightly glassy, but otherwise he was aware of his surroundings. Mac and Don grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet.

"I hate vampires," Danny commented.

"You're starting to sound like Dean," Sam muttered with a small smile.

"Yeah, well he's got a point," Danny admitted reluctantly. That got an actual laugh out of Sam. Mac merely rolled his eyes and he and Don helped Danny toward the door. Lindsay and Sam following close behind.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Sam opened his motel door room to see Sheldon pouring over a stack of papers and Dean out cold on his bed. _Great, get your dirty, sweaty, bloody clothes all over my bed. Thanks a freaking lot, older brother_, he wanted to say, but instead said, "How did you get him to go to sleep?"

"A method I learned in college. It's called _Annoying Roommate_."

"How does it work?" Sam asked thinking he already knew.

"Mix a crap load of alcohol together, have the roommate, or in this case your brother, drink as much as he can handle until he passes out."

"How much did he drink?" Sam knew Dean had a very high tolerance for alcohol. He had seen his brother wash down three beers with six shots and still be well enough to drive the Impala back to the motel.

"A lot," Sheldon answered simply. He got to his feet, a couple of articles coming into focus. They were of another case Sam had been considering; one that had to do with possessions in Georgia.

"I say that's a lower level demon possession. Maybe a medium. I don't know; I don't hunt the things myself."

Hawks was nearly toward the door before Sam could speak again. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I worked as an ME before I worked as a crime scene investigator. I've seen a lot of weird things in that time. I know a demon possession when I see one. Have a good night, Sam." And with that he closed the door behind him.

"Hmph," Sam muttered walking over to the articles. He collected them, sticking them into his father's journal. He decided that he would work on the demons in the morning, with Dean's help. Instead he walked toward Dean's bed-his still occupied by his snoring older brother-and laid down. He could do with some shut eye, too.

_**SN/CSI: NY**_

Dean wasn't happy that he couldn't drive his own car. So what if his wrist was broken and he had a sprained ankle, he drove in worst conditions before. But then Sam's words hit him again, _"Come on, just let me take care of you for once. I promise the next hunt I will hurt myself and you'll get the older brother job back." You better not do that_, he thought glancing at Sam who was just pulling up to the crime lab. The entire team, even Danny whom Dean still was annoyed with, was waiting for them.

"Do we have to talk to them?" Dean grumbled crossing his arms.

"Dad knew Mac and Stella, they brought in Sheldon, Danny, and the others; I think you can at least say good-bye."

"Fine." Dean opened the door, getting out of the car. He didn't bother with the crutches; he didn't want or need them anymore. His ankle was fine, it wasn't broken. He walked up to the others, who were all standing in a group warding off the cold.

"So, you guys are headed out," Stella asked the moment both boys were in hearing distance of her. Sam nodded while Dean grunted. Stella walked up to both of them, hugging them both at the same time. "Tell your dad hi from me." Both boys looked to Mac who shook his head slightly. Instead of telling her the truth both Winchesters muttered, "Okay." She released them and headed back to Mac.

The boys were each hugged by Lindsay next, who told them good-bye separately. They shook hands with Sheldon, Don, and Mac. When it was Danny's turn, Sam shook his hand immediately. _Work with the guy once and now he's like your freaking best friend, _Dean thought bitterly.

Danny stopped in front of Dean, holding out of his hand. "I know we haven't been the best of friends, but at least we should leave on a good note," Danny muttered sheepishly.

"Fine," Dean muttered and shook the CSI's hand. They broke apart almost as soon as their hands met and Dean got back in the car.

"Um, you have my number if anything weird happens," Sam said heading toward the driver side.

"Yeah, but I expect we'll be able to handle it," Mac replied and Dean could see the hunter's glint in his eye. He knew that Mac was a hunter, no matter what he said.

"Okay. Bye guys." Sam got into the driver seat, closing the door. Like the polite boy he was he waved good-bye to the others before starting the car. Dean raised his hand in a final farewell before his brother pulled back into the street and down the road.

"So, to Georgia," Dean muttered looking out the window.

"To Georgia," Sam confirmed and headed out of the city line, slowly merging into traffic.

END…


End file.
